


winter homecoming

by nolongervoid



Series: 12 Days of Ramenzo [12]
Category: BoBoiBoy (Cartoon)
Genre: American AU, Bonding, Christmas Parties, Cyberstalking, I had too much fun writing this, M/M, New Years Eve, Singer AU, Slow Burn, but its lowkey, childhood...friends? au, holy frick, i guess?, in one (1) day, mee geng returns, not quite Friends ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28291677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nolongervoid/pseuds/nolongervoid
Summary: Kaizo tried to avoid his past but finds himself facing old memories when he returns to his hometown for the holidays.
Relationships: Kaizo/Ramenman (BoBoiBoy), Ramenman & Original Characters
Series: 12 Days of Ramenzo [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053443
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	winter homecoming

The white blanket on the ground appears untouched, a week’s worth of snowfalls masking the footprints of schoolchildren playing here before classes let out for the holidays. The playground has been apparently deserted since.

Kaizo shuffles his feet through the snow, his sneakers soaked after burying in frozen water with each step. He shakes them off uselessly and sits down on a lonely swing, curling his freezing fingers together and digging them into his pockets.

The swing creaks as it sways back with his added weight, and he stares ahead at the playground equipment, and the field behind it, ending with the school on one side and a gently rolling hill to the other. It’s hard to make out the details in the dim glow of sparse lamp posts, but the image is engraved in his memory.

Everything about this place aches with familiarity, and yet he feels like a stranger within it.

A snowshoe hare leaps by out of the corner of his eye and he turns, scanning the tiny tracks its paws leave in the snow. His eyes focus and he notices footprints have appeared in the snow, too, but in the opposite direction he came from.

He looks up to see the blond - no stranger - in a hoodie and jeans, but his feet warm and dry in heavy boots.

Ramen raises a hand, ungloved, and waves. Kaizo simply stares, quite aware of the hour of night and the desolation of the scene.

“I heard you were back in town,” Ramen explains, then adds, “the innkeeper - he told everyone.”

_ Ah, figures. _ Kaizo had only just checked in earlier today, and has yet to show his face in public, but news sure traveled fast here.

So he nods. “Yeah…”

“It’s been a while since I last saw you,” Ramen says. “Been in LA ever since you left?”

“Never came back,” Kaizo admits, “till now, anyway, I guess.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” He sits down on the swing next to Kaizo without permission, angling his body to face him.

“Did you come looking for me?” Kaizo asks, surprised.

Ramen shrugs. “What can I say? I missed you,” and there’s a clear lack of hesitation that’s so quintessentially  _ Ramen _ that Kaizo drowns in the nostalgia for a moment.

So he nods again and stares at his shoes. His hands tighten into fists, the last semblance of sensation left in them fading rapidly, and he inhales sharply at the sudden rush of cold.

Ramen raises an eyebrow as he shivers. “You never were one for the cold, but California softened you, eh?”

_ “I’m weak,” _ Kaizo mutters through gritted teeth, closing in on himself to preserve body heat.

“Here,” Ramen offers his hand, and Kaizo stares at it for a few moments, before extending his own.

The other wraps his numb hands in his surprisingly warm ones and presses both around his, like a panini press. It doesn’t quite bring back the feeling in his fingers, but it sends an extremely pleasant rush of heat through his hands.

Kaizo pulls his hands back, awkward, but Ramen takes them again and holds them with no hint of intention of letting go, and the warmth isn’t unwelcome, so Kaizo gives in.

“How did you find me, anyways?” he asks.

“I tried the hotel but they said you’d gone out, so I checked the square but no one had seen you, so we got the car and drove around till I saw someone walking towards the school alone, and it turned out to be you,” Ramen explains, probably aiming to end Kaizo’s relevant train of questions.

Well, he succeeded.

Kaizo sighs, dropping his arms in defeat, giving Ramen the initiative to ask his own questions.

To his mercy, the blond doesn’t.

“What were you doing out here so late, anyway?”

“I just needed some fresh air to clear my head,” Kaizo mumbles. “I should probably be heading back now, anyway...”

“I can give you a ride, then,” Ramen offers. “You shouldn’t stay out in the cold.”

Kaizo is half a mind to turn down the offer, but having only just regained some trace of life in his fingertips, his limbs are threatening to abandon him if he doesn’t get somewhere with a heater soon.

“Thanks,” Kaizo accepts gratefully, and follows him to the car.

He almost immediately regrets it when the back door opens to reveal Ramen’s old friends, none of whom Kaizo can - or wishes to - identify by name, though he knows the one at the wheel was called something with an ‘M’ in it.

To his further disappointment,  _ they _ remember  _ him  _ quite well, and proceed to engage him in a conversation that he’s barely got the consciousness for as the digits on the clock near 1:00.

“After how long you’d been gone, we thought you’d set your mind on outgrowing us,” the dreadlocked driver says, “us” referring to the town. Because literally everyone knows everyone else here.

Kaizo bites his lip because he’s not entirely wrong but he doesn’t have the insensitivity of confirming his assumptions.

“Did you make it big yet?” the one on the opposite end of the seat asks curiously.

Kaizo mumbles something, then manages a more comprehensible answer out of politeness. “I guess you could say I’m getting there…”

“Did something happen?” the one in the middle asks in courteous concern.

“No,” Kaizo assures them quickly, turning his head to stare out the window. “Not with my career, anyway.”

He shuts up then because he doesn’t want to sound like a snob. Truthfully part of his intent was to shake off his connection with this place; not to abandon his humble roots, but to escape history.

Some things just catch up to you, anyway.

That doesn’t change the fact that after almost a decade away, he’s practically a big city boy, and they’re all still small town folk.

“ _ LA… _ ” the opposite window one repeats in wonder. “I wanna go there someday.”

“We could come visit,” Ramen pipes up for the first time since Kaizo got in the car. “If you haven’t forgotten us, by the time you hit stardom.”

“I would never,” Kaizo promises, forcing a smile to assure the other three in the car, though he’s got a feeling the blond can see through his words.

He never liked that vibe about Ramen.

The town isn’t huge, either, so thankfully the inn appears in front of the windshield, and Kaizo finds himself bidding his “goodnight”s before they wrap him up in any more uncomfortable conversation.

-

The clouds clear overnight to a stunningly blue sky, blinding sunlight barely masked by the flimsy curtains of Kaizo’s room.

He squints and turns over, failing to block out the light with his pillow, and gives up. A glance at the clock reads 11:00, which is neither early nor late by his standards, but it would be nice to have a few more hours of darkness after spending much of the early morning stressed sleepless.

And now the anxiety returns in full, erasing any hope of falling asleep in spite of the daylight now. His stomach twists when he gets up, appetite disappearing, so instead he reaches for his laptop and pulls open a browser window.

Synced notifications from his phone pop up on the sidebar and he ignores them, clicking the single ‘X’ in the corner to make the whole list disappear. He rests his head on his pillow and types in a search for “apartments in los angeles”.

The first couple links are ads that he quickly scans and deems worthless, moving on to the next few unsponsored results. These websites look more promising, and he clicks in.

The prices on the first page send his heart palpitating and he hurries to the tab of filters to refine his search. 

The next batch of results is less shocking but still disappointing. Kaizo scrolls through, biting his lip as he mentally lists his criteria and how realistic his chances are of finding what he’s looking for. He adjusts the filters again, then again, before giving up and slamming the laptop shut.

He flops back onto bed and closes his eyes, then snaps them open to stare at the ceiling while his mind is flooded with thoughts. His memory replays a reel of recent events and he goes over the details in his head, organizing them into something he can figure out how to deal with, but soon his thoughts transition to a recap of the past day. Specifically night.

He wasn’t planning on running into Ramen. Sure, he hadn’t kept it off the table - it was more likely than not that their paths would cross at some point over Kaizo’s winter vacation, and he hadn’t really seriously considered “actively avoid Ramen at all costs” as part of his holiday to-do list.

True, it had occurred to him, perhaps more than once, that Ramen would be here. He may have dwelled on the thought a bit more than others, spent more of his brain cells on it than it probably deserved.

All the same, Ramen going out of his way to seek him just hours after his arrival was. Jarring. To say the least. It felt a bit as though when he convinced himself that he was being silly, worrying about the prospect of meeting the blond again, fate had gone out of its way to prove “ _ no, you were right for worrying, look how he’s in your way now from day 1 _ ”.

Kaizo wonders if it’s a sign…

Actually, no. He hasn’t eaten since he got here, he’s barely slept, and he’s not about to get lost down a rabbit hole of silly conspiracies.

With that, he shakes his head vigorously, forcing himself to get up to go get ready and find something to eat.

-

The thing with Pates is that despite its name and small-town status, there’s no real signature cuisine or charming restaurants where you can grab a bite of signature food. There’s your standard McDonald’s and Wendy’s, not that anyone goes there except teenagers looking for part-time jobs and travellers stopping in the area for lunch.

That’s not to say there aren’t locally owned joints because there  _ are, _ they just don’t stand out as anything special because it’s the same food you could get in LA or San Francisco or, heck, Monterey.

But something about it is strikingly nostalgic, and for that alone, Kaizo is simultaneously drawn to and repelled by the street of shops leading out of the square, each one smelling of fresh bread or rich pasta bake or seasoned soup. 

For a moment, he’s thirteen again, stumbling down the avenue after a basketball game, eager to indulge in the free meal promised for the winning team afterward. Back then it was a piece of heaven, that steaming cinnamon roll with a slightly lopsided scoop of store-bought vanilla ice cream. He’s had a hundred better cinnamon rolls in LA, with perfectly drizzled icing and precisely spherical scoops of ice cream made before your very eyes, and yet it’s the scent of sweet cinnamon wafting out of the bakery that has him ready to pass out.

The hunger is finally catching up to him and his empty stomach growls painfully, so he pushes open the door.

If it’s one thing that’s changed since the last time he entered here, for the baker and the display cases look almost preserved in time the past several years, or perhaps his eyes know exactly where to look, they’ve expanded their assortment of pastries.

“What is that?” Kaizo asks, not daring to believe it.

“Long time, no see,” the baker’s wife teases. “ _ No hello, howdy do? _ ”

Kaizo flushes and drops his hand but she waves him off.

“That you see there is the result of my niece’s experimentation two or so years ago. You know, we pride ourselves on our fixed, reliable stock of baked goods, but when she discovered a perfect recipe for carrot donuts, we just had to add them to the collection!”

Kaizo gapes, reaching forward to stroke the display case in mid-air. “You have... _ carrot donuts here? _ ”

She nods, preparing a square of wax paper to extract one from the display case, and setting it on the counter before him. He reaches for his wallet to pay, but she waves him off again.

“It’s just nice to see you here again,” she explains, neglecting the cost. “The way you left, we all thought you’d never come back.”

Kaizo avoids answering by nibbling at his donut and staring off into space. Another customer enters the shop, then, sending a rush of cold air through the open door, and he takes that as an excuse to leave.

His exposed fingers chill immediately and he flexes them, unable to stuff them in his pockets till he’s finished his donut. He speeds up, as though walking faster will prevent - or else distract him - his fingers from freezing stiff. The row of restaurants gives way to the stores, some big name fashion retailers mixed with local boutiques, souvenir shops and toy stores. He glances through the windows as he walks by, remembering the electronics store on the corner where he bought his first sound equipment.

It’s been upgraded, which is a bittersweet thing to consider. He’s happy for the owner, who’s apparently still behind the business seeing as the signboard still bears his name. But the neon letters have been replaced with blocky ones that glow even in the bright daylight. The windows are still covered, as they were in his memory, but he feels hesitant to go in.

He ends up checking back into his hotel room and spending the rest of the day alternating between LA apartment listings and trivial apps on his phone to distract him till it’s late enough to sleep again.

-

He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep till the sound of someone banging at his door wakes him up at - he checks the clock - 8pm.

He squints and straightens up, wondering who on Earth would have found his inn room and wanted to seek him at this time.

It turns out to be the innkeeper, checking to inform him that the internet will be out for the next four hours.

Kaizo thanks him for the notice and closes the door, leaning against it in exhaustion for a moment. He heads back to the bed and crashes into the sheets, face-down, his nose miraculously missing the corner of his laptop. He shoves it aside and sits up, leaning against the headboard and reaching for his phone, and turning on data.

It’s about time he checked his notifications from the last 24 hours.

There’s only one message from his roommate. He closes the app and swipes out the notification, opening his email. There’s a few emails from producers he reached out to in the past, most of them just memos about people leaving for vacation thus unavailable for communication.

One of them is an actual response, though, and he reads through it with passive interest, then decides to close it when his mind fails to effectively process the information.

No new listings appear in Los Angeles, so he closes all his tabs and turns off data, opening his music app and taking out his earbuds. He scrolls through before picking a track, tapping it, and turning off the screen as he closes his eyes and lets the sound take him over.

-

There’s a third reason people go to McDonald’s.

Kaizo wakes up again from a pang of hunger, his stomach furious at his neglect. He picks up his phone and clicks it to check the time, but the screen stays black. Dead.

He untangles his earbuds out of his hair and rolls over to check the clock.  _ 4:18 _ . He doesn’t have any food in his room, and his stomach would probably rather he go hungry than eat the dry potato chips and flat soda in his bag. The only places that are open right now are 24/7 chain restaurants that underpay their workers for overnight shifts.

_ McDonald’s it is. _

He’d forgotten to leave his sneakers over the heater, so they’re still damp when he slips his feet in, and he winces. He makes a mental note to buy winter boots tomorrow, er,  _ later today _ . For now, he’ll make do with wet feet.

The McDonald’s offers absolutely zero sentimental value, because McDonald’s is the same everywhere you go. It’s empty, save for the sole employee with the unfortunate burden of 4am shift, and the flickering fluorescent lights make for a depressing early morning meal.

Kaizo wordlessly eats his hash browns and swipes through his phone with the other hand, resolutely ignoring the unread message that keeps popping up in his notifications. Instead, he checks the weather forecast for today.  _ 2°F _ . Cold.

He decides to order a hot chocolate instead of coffee, because he’s not a struggling university student heathen who drinks coffee at 4am. He sips the warm drink while sprawled out on the comfy chair next to the fireplace, which is probably fake and doesn’t actually offer any heat, but it looks nice and gives warm vibes so he lets his head hang off of the armrest and kills time playing games on his phone while it charges, connected to the outlet underneath the television.

The half-asleep cashier has been lazily sipping from a cup of black coffee, and suddenly snaps to attention, though Kaizo doesn’t notice until he breaks the silence with a “You!”

Kaizo takes a moment to register that he is being referred to, in the absence of any other patrons or sentient entities in the room, and turns around, raising an eyebrow.

“ _ You _ ,” the guy repeats. “What’s your name?”

“Kaizo,” he answers reluctantly, bracing himself for recognition.

The guy’s eyes predictably widen and he pushes his cup aside, straightening. “ _ You’re the guy who went to LA! _ ”

Kaizo nods, because that’s his reputation here. The one who moved on from this small town to follow his musical dreams in the big city. Kaizo doesn’t want to burst his bubble, or disillusion any of the impressed folks here, but the reality is a hell of a lot less glamorous.

For one, it’s been years, and he’s still little more than a fledgeling amateur.

Sure, he has yet to find someone who told him he’s a  _ bad _ singer, but he’s also yet to achieve  _ fame _ and  _ recognition, _ and though those aren’t exact benchmarks of success, they kind of  _ are _ .

Looking back on it, he probably left an irreversible impact on his brother, but as much as he regrets his past, there’s not much he can do now.

His thought process goes unknown to the McDonald’s worker, who looks rather deflated in his silence.

“This is a charming place,” Kaizo appeases. “It’s nice to be back here.”

“ _ Really? _ ”

“ _ Mhmm _ ,” Kaizo lies, nodding.

The guy shrugs and goes back to drinking his coffee and checking his phone. Kaizo plays games till he gets bored and notices his phone is fully charged, and goes to unplug it.

The sun is rising outside now, and Kaizo pauses in front of the window just to stare at it. The sky is streaked in vibrant peach, pink, purples and blues. He steps outside just to take it in, shivering in the cold air.

If anything, he doesn’t get sights like this in LA. Not without the cityline, anyway.

He stares at the sunrise till his toes freeze, reminding him that his shoes are still wet, and he hurries back to his hotel room to put them on the heater to dry.

-

He actually intended to fall asleep once his shoes were set to dry, and his body must have miraculously complied, because he wakes up at noon feeling groggy.

He mopes around for a bit, feeling miserable, and decides to finally read the message on his phone.

And it’s a text wall.

He sighs and immediately clicks out, fully aware that the message was just marked as ‘Read’ and the sender would have been refreshing the app constantly for the past few days waiting to see the marker.

He can’t bring himself to sympathize right now either.

Instead, he puts on his thankfully dry shoes and sets off to the shops to buy a pair of boots and a pair of gloves. Actual gloves that cover his fingertips. Not these punk accessories.

-

The shoe store has a wide variety of cold weather wear, so it takes Kaizo a while to find something that fits him but also doesn’t weigh him down. There are plenty that fit him, and also plenty that weigh him down.

He ends up grabbing the one in the window display case and bringing it to the cashier, who busies herself with finding the other half of the pair and arranging them in a box for him. She does not recognize him, which is surprising but also a relief. There’s an assortment of gloves next to the checkout counter. He grabs a pair and buys those too.

He’s just leaving the shop and heading down the sidewalk when a group of carolers appear, blocking his path.

They serenade him in voices of varying pitch and he sighs, forcing a smile so as to not seem impolite, and waits for them to move. They don’t.

“ _ Kaizo?! _ ” One of them recognizes immediately as they finish a carol.

“Uh, yeah, it’s me,” he smiles painedly.

“How is it in LA?” another chimes, and he starts to give a vague account before being interrupted.

“It’s amazing that you’re sharing your voice with the rest of the world…”

“ _ Join us? _ ” one of them suggests suddenly, giving him a brief heart attack. “We all miss hearing you sing-”

Kaizo is about to express his distaste for Christmas music specifically - mostly irritation towards the annoying instrumentals and repetitive meaningless lyrics - but they all look so hopeful, and it has been a while since he had an audience that wasn’t a producer…

Which is how he finds himself strolling down the street in warm, new boots and gloves, singing halfheartedly along with a crowd of overenthusiastic bell-ringers. If he had been planning to avoid exposure before, his attempts were most certainly sabotaged completely, because up and down the street people are stopping in their tracks and gaping at him with recognition.

And the group of carolers is growing, probably due to his presence, but for some reason, he doesn’t hate the rising volume as more and more people sing along. Rather, his smile feels less forced, and by the end of _ Deck the Halls _ , he actually doubles over in genuine laughter and mirth.

They back away to give him space to collect himself, grinning with sparkling eyes, and he finds himself grinning back, not actually remembering the last time he had this much fun. 

He looks up to see, of all people, Ramen standing ahead, staring at him in confused but happy surprise. Kaizo’s smile doesn’t fade - he feels a bit giddy, actually.  _ Perhaps this is a result of sleep-deprivation or else a trace of the supposed merry Yuletide spirit? _

The group allows him to escape after that, and he thanks them genuinely, waving as he heads off. He turns and walks with his head down, smiling at the snow, though his mouth hurts, so he allows his lips to relax again.

He doesn’t notice Ramen speeding up to match his pace until the other is walking alongside him, hands out of the pockets of his hoodie that he somehow doesn’t freeze to death in. 

_ Freaking white boy. _

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve seen you smile that much before,” Ramen says honestly, and Kaizo slows down, suddenly suspicious.

“Eh, I guess it’s what they say about spending time with other people,” Kaizo says, grimacing. He doesn’t like spending other time with people. This incident was an outlier and should not have been counted.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it back here. I know it’s not like,  _ LA _ , or anything…”

Kaizo shakes his head. “People in big cities don’t stop and ask you to sing with them.” Well, it’s half a lie. People  _ do, _ but Kaizo was one of those who hurried by and away, caught up in his own business.

He feels a bit guilty for it now.

“Can I ask something?” Ramen says softly, and Kaizo’s heart stops in panic.

“Go ahead?” he asks hesitantly.

Ramen pauses, almost as if thinking it over, then shakes his head as if changing his mind. Kaizo frowns.

“Did you miss us?”

It’s not the question Kaizo was expecting, certainly, but he finds himself laughing with relief.

“What?” Ramen asks, confused.

Kaizo shakes his head. “Nothing, nothing,” then clears his throat. “Uh, I mean, yeah?”

He’s a terrible liar, and Ramen narrows his eyes.

_ “Really?” _

Kaizo bites his lip and flushes slightly under the intensity of the gaze.

“I didn’t forget about you…” he goes on so he isn’t completely lying.

Ramen blows out, and his breath briefly materializes in the air, before drifting away with the wind. “Good…”

“I hoped the big city life wouldn’t go to your head…”

Kaizo ducks his head. “Maybe not mine…” he mumbles.

Ramen raises an eyebrow and Kaizo hesitates, not having confided this to anyone before.

“Then?” Ramen asks.

Kaizo sighs. “Pang…”

Ramen freezes in alarm. “Your brother? How is he?”

“He left…” Kaizo trails off. “Took me a while to realize where I went wrong. By then it was too late.”

And that will be the extent of today’s Cup of Honesty. His first and hopefully last.

Ramen looks disappointed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kaizo mumbles, though no, it’s not really fine.

But it’s not the worst of his situation so there’s that.

“But I’m glad you’re not choosing that path for yourself,” Ramen nods.

“How about you?” Kaizo asks, surprising them both with his genuine curiosity. “What have you been up to?”

Ramen shrugs. “Just hanging, you know. Uh, if you come by the restaurant later, I make some pretty mean noodles.”

Kaizo raises an eyebrow. “Taking over the family business? Or starting your own,” he realizes, remembering that Ramen isn’t the one with culinary family- that would be one of his friends, though Kaizo can’t for the life of him remember which.

“It’s more of a side job than my passion, I guess,” Ramen shrugs. “Still haven’t found my calling, I guess…”

“That’s fine,” Kaizo nods, though it probably sounds stuffy coming from him. Everyone’s told him he was a good singer since he was young. He left to pursue his career early, and while he’s still working at breaking it big, he’s never once doubted it.

“You aren’t giving up on your dreams, are you?” Ramen asks suddenly, almost reading his mind.

“What?” Kaizo asks in surprise. “No, of course not.”

“Oh,” Ramen looks relieved. “I was just wondering why you came back here after all this time.”

Ah, yes, the million dollar question.

Kaizo visibly stiffens and Ramen backtracks.

“Sorry, I won’t pry.”

Kaizo gives a curt nod and Ramen goes silent for a while. Kaizo doesn’t know why he’s still here or where they’re going or when they’re going to part their separate ways.

“You got boots,” the blond notices.

“Yeah?” Kaizo kicks snow with his toe. “About time.”

“Welcome back to winter, Cali boy,” Ramen jokes.

Kaizo purses his lips. “I’m sure you’d fit right in with the surfer dudes.”

Ramen gapes. “Implying you know them?”

Kaizo shrugs. “I’ve been to the beach. They’re all blond and toned and obnoxious.”

Ramen is silent for a moment, though Kaizo doesn’t worry he’s offended him till another long moment passes. He hesitates, but Ramen speaks up again.

“I’ve been working out, actually,” and there’s a small, almost proud smile on his face.

“Have you also quit eating microwaved instant noodles every meal of the day?”

Ramen rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “One meal a day,” he corrects, and Kaizo gives him a teasing look of shock. “Really, though, does it show?”

“What?” Kaizo pauses.

“You said toned,” Ramen repeats doubtfully, flushing slightly and looking down at himself.

Kaizo’s eyes widen. “Did I?”

Ramen narrows his eyes and nods, and Kaizo backtracks.

“I mean, it’s not like I’ve seen under your hoodie or anything-” and Ramen actually moves to take it off.

“Keep it on, oh my gosh, you’ll freeze!” Kaizo exclaims in exasperation.

Ramen shrugs. “It’s not that cold.”

“ _ Not that cold, _ ” Kaizo repeats dumbly, shaking his head.

“ _ Cali boy, _ ” Ramen repeats, then grins to himself. “Cauliflower!”

“Are you five?”

Ramen sticks out his tongue. “You can finally join the Food Gang,” he explains. “Remember how we’d never let you hang out with us in middle school?”

Kaizo grimaces at the memory, but decides to go along with it in good fun. “I actively chose to distance myself from you, so consider it mutual.”

“Uh huh,” Ramen says sarcastically. “Yeah I remember it a little more like us teasing the heck out of you and you being a whiny little tsundere.”

“ _ Tsundere _ ,” Kaizo repeats incredulously. “Not my fault you were all immature idiots.”

Ramen laughs. “No, but really, though,” he stops, “I wanted to say sorry.”

Kaizo gapes. “For what?”

Ramen gestures vaguely. “Y’know, I felt bad when you left in the middle of freshman year… I know you told everyone it was following your dreams but I couldn’t help feeling like I had something to do with it. Not to take credit or anything, sorry-” he raises his hands in surrender.

Kaizo pauses a moment. “How did you know…” he says softly.

“So I was right?”

Kaizo narrows his eyes. “You said it yourself- ‘whiny little tsundere’,” he quotes. “At least I can say now that I’m not proud of it.”

“Neither am I,” Ramen shakes his head. “You’re super talented, though, I’m glad you ignored us and made it big.”

Kaizo nods, unsure of how to respond. He looks up.

“Uh, where are we going, anyway?”

Ramen throws his hands up. “I was just following you.”

Kaizo stops and stares at his own feet. “Where am  _ I _ going?”

Ramen has the decency to look guilty. “Sorry for taking your time-”

“No, it’s fine, I don’t think I was doing anything, anyway,” Kaizo waves off, though he can’t deny he’s had rather enough social activity for a day.

“I’ll leave you to yourself, then,” Ramen reads his mind, backing away, but he doesn’t seem disappointed. Quite the contrary - his face is glowing with? Relief? Happiness?

Kaizo doesn’t know, nor does he get to find out as the blond turns on his heel and heads off in another direction.

He feels oddly light himself, for some reason.

-

Kaizo spends the rest of the evening replaying the conversation he had with Ramen and forcing himself to relive long-suppressed memories of his childhood for reference.

Well he can confirm with certainty that twelve-year-old Ramen was a  _ prick, _ but he wasn’t entirely innocent himself either.

It’s ironic because Kaizo used to make jabs at him just as much as vice versa, but the difference was that Ramen had a group of friends to back him up, while Kaizo had...Kaizo.

Looking back on it, he can pinpoint the exact period in time that My Chemical Romance took over his playlist, and, sooner than later, his life.

But hey, at least he got a fledgeling career out of it?

It ends up taking him on a stroll down memory lane and he finds digital photo albums he’d forgotten existed. He wasn’t even aware of the sheer amount of photos on Facebook that had been posted by members of the community, even just the school staff, before he left.

He finds a video of one of his first performances, a solo at the middle school Christmas concert, and he cringes watching it. He’s come a long way…

The datestamps on the posts grow more and more recent, and Kaizo disappears from photos, but Ramen grows older. His hair grows longer till it’s in a ponytail at their high school graduation, and Kaizo squints.

_ Is that a...mullet? _

Huh. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about Ramen.

He clicks on the user tag and it takes him directly to Ramen’s profile. Kaizo had forgotten that Ramen would also have his own social media, complete with its own status updates throughout the years. Kaizo doesn’t wanna seem like a stalker,  _ but… _

Ramen made his account when he was thirteen, so just before Kaizo left. His first post isn’t until a few months after Kaizo left, though. It’s a picture of noodles captioned “send noods”.  _ Mature _ .

There’s a lot of group pictures and selfies of Ramen with his friends, and Kaizo swipes through each of them, trying not to feel the jealousy rising up through channeling his own fifteen-year-old self. While Kaizo was exploring the big city, Ramen was going on camping trips with boy scouts. Kaizo hates the outdoors but he can’t deny that toasting marshmallows around a campfire is...justly enviable.

Then a girl enters the scene, and Kaizo freezes, not quite sure why his breath is leaving his body. It’s a strange feeling - he knows Ramen but he really doesn’t - and seeing him living a life that Kaizo doesn’t even know about, even if it’s history, gives him a twisted sense of perception.

He continues to scroll, quicker now, past selfies of kisses and flirtatious comments on walls that shouldn’t be making Kaizo as uncomfortable as they are.

And then a solid chunk of radio silence.

Kaizo squints and scrolls back to the top, coming to the realization that Ramen is probably more active on Instagram now - his handle is in his bio. He pulls out his phone and enters it, careful not to hit “follow” by accident, and it leads him to the blond’s profile. The icon picture is Ramen staring into the camera rather attractively. Kaizo feels his face warm.

Then he starts scrolling and  _ oh boy. _

Ramen wasn’t lying about working out. Kaizo’s jaw drops at image after image of Ramen shirtless, doing exercises, lifting weights or using the equipment at the town gym. His chest glistens with sweat in some of them, others with his back turned to the camera, one hand lifting a dumbbell and the other holding his own hair back out of his face.

Kaizo was never really one to thirst for actors or celebrities but he knows how to appreciate something aesthetic and this. This is very,  _ very _ aesthetic.

He also feels rather hyperaware that he was just talking to the blond earlier today, and that gives him another sort of strange feeling.

In Ramen’s own defense, he  _ is  _ wearing a shirt in most of his posts. A lot of them are of food, presumably meals he’s cooked. They look delicious, and Kaizo finds his mouth watering. At the food, not the workout pictures.

-

He is broken out of his not-stalking when there’s a knocking on the door again. Kaizo wonders what the innkeeper wants this time.

He gets his answer about thirty seconds later, as a grinning face framed by blond curls greets him in the doorway. The innkeeper is an aged brunet who does not smile.

Kaizo has a heart attack and Ramen has the decency to look away, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Kaizo prays that his face isn’t as red as it is warm, because how is he supposed to explain that he just spent the past several hours pseudo-stalking Ramen’s social media before thirsting over his shirtless body?

“I wasn’t disturbing you, was I?” Ramen asks hesitantly.

Kaizo shakes his head vigorously, gritting his teeth into a grimace to control his expression.  _ Don’t look down, don’t look down… _

Ramen crosses his arms over his chest as if he can sense? Kaizo’s thought process? Or maybe Kaizo is just being paranoid -  _ is this a dream? _

Kaizo pinches himself quickly and winces. Ramen’s eyes widen in concern.

“Is everything okay? Sorry, I should have called-”

Kaizo shakes his head again. “No, sorry, I just, uhh, my head hurts,” he explains, and accidentally bangs his forehead on the doorframe. “ _ Ouch… _ ”

“I’ll go grab you some ice - unless you want an Advil?” Ramen offers.

Kaizo is borderline begging when he pleads, “No, don’t, really, I’m fine…”

“ _ I’ll be fine _ ,” he repeats with finality when Ramen doesn’t look convinced. He leans against the doorframe, attempting casuality. “What’s up?”

“Uh, I was going to ask if you’d had dinner?”

Kaizo pauses, glancing back at the clock.  _ 8:37. _

“I don’t think I had lunch, actually…” he says slowly in realization.

“Oh, shoot…” Ramen says. “You should eat.”

Kaizo nods.

“Uh, if you want to, we’re going to get carbonara…join us?”

“D-depends who’s ‘we’,” Kaizo smoothly hides his stammer, internally freaking out.

On one hand, Ramen is inviting him to eat out. On the other,  _ Ramen _ is inviting him to eat out,  _ now. _

“Just me and the gang,” Ramen gestures. “Y’know, Mamee, Sam, Eggi-”

_ So those are their names, _ Kaizo realizes, and wills himself to memorize them.

“I mean, no pressure,” Ramen promises, and Kaizo snaps out of his thoughts.

“No, I’d love to.” Kaizo decides that he isn’t about to miss this opportunity, even if the timing is a little too coincidental to be comfortable.

Ramen brightens and Kaizo nearly melts because he’s actually adorable in person. He briefly wonders if Ramen is hotter in the flesh, too, then promptly banishes the thought from his mind. Unsuccessfully, because it immediately crawls back into his head.

He follows Ramen downstairs, trudging in his new boots that are not soaking after an hour of walking around with the blond earlier, and Ramen opens the back door for him to sit inside next to - Kaizo reminds himself - Sam and Eggi. Then he slams the door shut out of habit rather than attitude, and sits in the front passenger seat next to Mamee.

“You convinced him?” Mamee fakes shock.

“It’d be nice to get an apology from you, too,” Kaizo bites back playfully. “I still remember you calling me a gay little twink.”

The car nearly skids.

“Oh,  _ shit _ , I didn’t mean that…” Mamee shakes his head, distressed, and Kaizo can’t help but laugh.

“I  _ mean, _ you weren’t  _ wrong, _ ” Kaizo shrugs.

Sam gives him a curious look. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so cheery before.”

“Yeah,” Mamee repeats dumbly, “did you give him laughing gas before he got in?”

Eggi peers at him. “He doesn’t seem to be showing any signs of being high…”

“It’s a joke!” Mamee exclaims, then laughs as if illustrating his point. “Man, look at you, talking like you’re one of us.”

“He is one of us, now,” Ramen decides, and Kaizo leans his head against the window to catch the blond’s grin in the sideview mirror.

“Oh?” Mamee asks, surprised.

“ _ Cauliflower, _ ” Ramen cackles quietly, and Kaizo rolls his eyes, though he’s smiling. “Get it, cause he’s a Cali boy?”

“ _ Pretty as a flower, _ ” Mamee nods, and Ramen’s laughter fades. Kaizo flushes, and glances to the rearview mirror to see the driver winking.

“Welcome to the squad,” Sam smiles warmly and Kaizo nods gratefully.

“Thanks…” he trails off, turning to stare out the window again.

He doesn’t quite feel like part of the friend group, yet, and he doesn’t have the heart to remind them he won’t be here long enough to properly integrate, anyway.

That said, something inside him flutters at the thought of spending more time with Ramen.

-

“Did you cook this?” Kaizo asks incredulously between mouthfuls of carbonara.

Ramen nods across the table, taking reasonably sized bites of his pasta like a normal person.

“ _ It’s so good _ ,” Kaizo tells him honestly.

Mamee reaches over and pats Ramen’s back heavily the way dudebros do. “He learned from the best.”

“We all mastered the kitchen together,” Ramen explains, and Kaizo feels a twinge at the thought of Ramen and his friends hanging out without him.

Ramen seems to read his mind. Again.

“Now that you’re here, maybe we’ll make a chef out of you, too,” Ramen grins.

“Nuhfngs,” Kaizo refuses through a mouthful of pasta, and swallows. “I’ll just enjoy the food. Man, I’m never skipping another meal here, again.”

Sam and Eggi exchange concerned glances, then turn to Kaizo. “You haven’t been eating?”

Kaizo shrugs. “I forget…”

Mamee gapes in outrage. “You  _ forget _ to  _ eat?! _ ”

Ramen looks disappointed and Kaizo shrugs apologetically.

“Sorry?”

“Nah, man, we’ll feed you well,” Mamee promises.

Kaizo grins, genuinely grateful. “If it’s as good as this then I’m not complaining.”

They nod, and the table is generally quiet until their plates are empty, which, at the rate that Kaizo is shovelling noodles in his mouth, isn’t long.

“So, tomorrow is Christmas Eve,” Eggi reminds them. “Have you all done your Christmas shopping.”

Kaizo freezes. He hasn’t exactly had to…

Ramen raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think Kaizo was planning on spending Christmas with anyone when he got here…”

Kaizo wads up a napkin and throws it at his face, forgetting for a moment how hot it was. His face, not the room. The room is reasonably air conditioned, though much warmer than the frigid weather outside. Ramen ducks and the ball hits his shoulder.

“You’re right, though,” Kaizo admits.

“You were seriously going to spend Christmas alone in a hotel room?” Mamee raises an eyebrow. “No offense, but that is like, the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Mamee…” Sam starts, though Eggi interrupts.

“You can spend Christmas with us!”

Kaizo stares. “I-”

“You’re wholly welcome to,” Sam assures him.

Ramen is nodding and Kaizo closes in on himself, flushing. 

“Thanks, guys…”

“So?” Mamee prompts.

Kaizo looks confused.

“Are you in or not?”

“Uh?”

“Spending Christmas with the squad,” Mamee clarifies, and Kaizo nods.

“That sounds nicer than wallowing in bed…”

“Sweet,” Mamee decides. “The party’s at Ramen’s on the night of the 25th.” 

“You can go shopping tomorrow, though you might have to end up ordering online,” Sam explains.

Kaizo, still stuck on the “ _ at Ramen’s _ ” bit, shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “Oh, shoot, do they even deliver here?”

Ramen narrows his eyes. “Pates isn’t  _ that _ small…”

“Right,” Kaizo corrects himself quickly. “But it’s Christmas Eve - would they deliver?”

Sam shrugs. “I guess you’d have to find out.”

Kaizo dwells on that for a moment, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Before he knows it, Eggi is poking his shoulder.

“What about you?”

“Eh?”

Sam sighs and Kaizo winces. “What do you want for dessert.”

Without even thinking, Kaizo blurts, “Carrot donuts,” and they stare at him.

“And I thought I had unusual taste,” Mamee says slowly.

Kaizo flushes. “What?”

Ramen is shaking his head in disbelief. “I just mean, really?”

“Uh, yeah?” Kaizo asks doubtfully.

Sam vouches for him. “You said it yourself - he’s a Cali guy. They’ve got interesting taste there-”

“ _ Just what does that mean? _ ” Kaizo narrows his eyes.

Mamee and Ramen raise their hands in surrender, and Mamee gets up to go order dessert.

“One carrot donut, then,” he mutters, light hearted, as he heads off.

Their dessert arrives and Kaizo practically inhales his, then pauses at a sudden memory of his brother.

_ Pang loved carrot donuts… _

Ramen is quick to note his shift in expression. “Is something wrong?”

Kaizo shakes his head again and forces a small smile. “Nothing, it’s fine…”

The atmosphere is tinged with awkwardness and Kaizo is thankful that they finish their dessert fairly quickly so he can head back soon.

The car ride is silent, though Ramen gets out of the car to walk Kaizo back to the inn when Mamee pulls up in front of the building.

“See you on the 25th?”

He looks hopeful and Kaizo melts slightly and nods vigorously.

“Goodnight, Cauliflower,” Ramen waves.

Kaizo turns back and heads inside with a silly smile on his face.

-

He sleeps soundly that night and wakes up at 9am feeling well-rested.

He takes a shower and cleans his room, making his bed himself, before settling in and opening his laptop, all while feeling suspiciously content and comfortable.

Almost immediately, his screen metaphorically slaps him in the face with the remains of yesterday’s search history. Ramen’s Facebook profile is still open, and Kaizo rushes to open his phone and close the Instagram app.

And accidentally presses “follow” in the process.

He lets out a yelp and drops his phone in horror, before fumbling to pick it back up and take in the consequences of his actions.

He just followed Ramen’s Instagram profile.

The one containing shirtless photos of Ramen.

And also very tasty looking meals.

But the shirtless photos…

_ Okay, Kaizo, you’re way overthinking this, _ he calms himself.  _ Ramen obviously posted them to be seen by the public. I just so happened to stumble across… _

He gets an Instagram notification and has another heart attack when he opens it.

_ manramen610 has requested to follow you. _

Without thinking, Kaizo chucks his phone at the wall across the bed, backing himself up against the headboard to maximize the distance between him and the cursed device.

To his sabotage, his laptop screen lights up just then, the synced mobile notification appearing on the sidebar, another reminder of his irreversible mistakes. He closes his eyes and counts to three, praying the notification will disappear. It doesn’t.

Kaizo decides there’s no going back now, and accepts the follow request.

Almost immediately, Ramen likes every single one of his 42 Instagram posts. And his IGTV videos. He doesn’t comment, thankfully, but Kaizo is practically one foot in his grave with the number of heart attacks the blond has indirectly dealt him over the past 24 hours.

He decides to mute his notifications and instead opens Amazon to look for last-minute Christmas gifts. And realizes that he has absolutely no idea where to begin. He barely knows Ramen, let alone his friends. What would they even want?

For a moment he’s tempted to ask Ramen, but he hesitates. He’d rather surprise them than admit to his own gift-giving incompetence.

The website offers a variety of generic gifts, though. Books, video games, electronics, and fashion dominate the home page. He scrolls through for a bit, trying to gauge whether Ramen and his friends would appreciate a new headset or the latest New York Times bestseller.

This is fruitless.

Gift cards aren’t thoughtful enough, he doesn’t know if they even like movies or games, and even when he finally decides on a cute set of T-shirts with various food-related puns on them, the estimated delivery date is  _ two weeks _ from now.

Kaizo’s eyes roll back in his head and he slams his laptop shut, all but throwing it against a wall. He presses his forehead to the cool glass of the window, easing his nerves, and opens his eyes. The shops wouldn’t be open today...would they?

-

This time when Kaizo steps outside, he walks with purpose. Quick strides - the snow has compacted some over the last few days of traffic and no snowfall, so he isn’t slowed down by fluffy fresh snow. Objective: find gifts.

To his merciful surprise, half the shops are open till 2pm. They’re mostly the bigger name brand retailers, so he isn’t going to have much variety, but at least he won’t be coming tomorrow evening empty-handed.

Kaizo enters the electronics store first because it’s the closest to where he came from. He slows down, giving each item on the shelf its due consideration. He could get a set of Bluetooth speakers, or wireless earbuds, or something useful like that, but for all he knows they already have their own at home.

The back wall catches his eye, even though he’s not shopping for himself, he can’t resist the glint of a shiny bass guitar. He traces it lightly with his thumb, remembering the one that’s gathering dust back in LA. He would have brought it, but it wouldn’t fit in his suitcase, and, in any case, he left on short notice.

Kaizo forces himself to focus, and reluctantly abandons the instruments display.

-

“Kaizo?”

Kaizo stops in his tracks and realizes he doesn’t know what he’s doing in the toys aisle, only now aware that his name is being called. He turns to see Ramen’s friend... _ Egghead _ ? Was that his name? Standing at the end of the aisle and watching him with mild interest. Kaizo raises his hand and halfheartedly waves.

“Looking for last-minute gifts?”

Kaizo nods, sheepish. “I’ve got like two hours before everything closes, so uh, guess I’ll find something in that time?”

He glances again at the wall of educational gadgets made for anyone below the age of five.

“Do you...know what you’re looking for, then?” Egghead - Kaizo is still doubtful on the name, he realizes - asks.

Kaizo pauses for a moment, before shaking his head in confession. He throws his hands up in the air.

“No idea,” he admits.

“If it helps, the kids’ toys aisle probably isn’t the best place to start,” the other offers, and Kaizo pauses for a moment at the sarcasm.

His friends’ sense of snark must have rubbed off on him at some point.

Kaizo nods slowly, suddenly anxious to get out of this place. The other shifts to the side, allowing him pass, and Kaizo finally voices his honest question,

“What’s your name again?”

“Eggi,” Eggi reminds helpfully and Kaizo nods, correcting his memory.

“Uh, you wouldn’t mind giving me a few more hints, would you?” Kaizo asks hesitantly.

Eggi grins. “Like a game?”

Kaizo stops. “What?”

“You have two hours, you said. There’s only six shops open till then, so why don’t we have some fun?”

No, no, this is a terrible idea. Kaizo is going to make a fool of himself and reveal his own incompetence and waste a Lot of time in the process.

But he also needs all the help he can get, so he sighs, forces a grin, and takes Ramen’s friend up on the challenge.

-

“An...egg timer?”

“Lava,” Eggi grins.

Kaizo gapes. “You want this? For Christmas?”

He stares at the kitchen device, wondering who in their right mind would be excited to find an egg-timer under the tree.

“It’s a fancy one, though,” Eggi presses. “I’m just saying, for myself…”

Kaizo nods absently. “You’re sure?”

Eggi doesn’t look like he’s joking, so he sighs. 

“Sorry to take away the element of surprise,” he says, taking the small box to the check-out counter.

“I’ll just look forward to it,” Eggi assures him. “Sammi would like it too,” as an afterthought.

Kaizo wonders just how severely he overestimated Ramen’s friends’ taste in gifts, but supposes that he isn’t one to judge. He wonders what they’ll have gauged of his own preferences…

Kaizo realizes this will be the first year in a few that he’ll actually be getting something for Christmas. It’s an odd feeling, and reminds him of the wrapped box he unsuccessfully attempted to lose in the airport. A kindly old man picked it up and returned it to him, and it presently sits at the very bottom of his suitcase, buried under smelly socks and dirty underwear.

He should also ask the innkeeper about laundry, he thinks, as Eggi leads him out of the superstore and past the clothing retailer. He tries to remember if he packed anything presentable enough to wear to a party, then realizes with a start that he doesn’t have anything remotely outside the category of ‘comfy casual’. 

Kaizo stops in front of the department store and Eggi turns back to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Kaizo apologizes, “I just need to get something, I just remembered.”

“Oh, okay,” Eggi shrugs. “Good luck with the rest, then. I hope I could help.”

“Thank you,” Kaizo nods gratefully, and he offers a real smile as Eggi waves, turning back around and heading off.

Meanwhile, Kaizo ducks into the department store in search of a holiday outfit.

-

The innkeeper is kind enough to supply him with wrapping paper, tape, and ribbon when he gets back with arms full of boxes and bags. He’d made one last return to the electronics store before heading back to the hotel to prepare for tomorrow night.

The boxes are fairly straightforward to wrap - Kaizo jogs his memory from years gone by and manages to end up with relatively presentable shapes. He can't find an X-Acto in his bag, so he resorts to using his teeth to cut the ribbon when the tape blade is too dull to get through the plastic.

He makes do with the irregularly shaped objects, though they look more like lumps covered in shiny paper and glittery string, but he reasons that they’re going to end up ripped open, anyway, so he shouldn’t feel too self-conscious of his handiwork.

The innkeeper, ever prepared, gives him four sheets of cardstock, and Kaizo rifles through his own bags for pens to scrawl holiday greetings. He searches online for card ideas, and ends up, perhaps against his better judgement, writing his phone number and social media handles on the bottom of each card.

Ramen already has his Instagram, though, so he pauses, trying to figure out what to do with the empty space. His hand scribbles something without him thinking, and he stares down at the card in surprise, realizing the words he just wrote.

_ Xoxo, Kaizo _

His instinct is to crumple up the card and throw it away immediately, but he doesn’t want to ask the innkeeper for more favors, so he just looks on at his work in horror.

He could cross it out but that would be too obvious. He could cut the bottom of the card off, but that would look strange. He could keep it, even though he’s well-aware of the implications it would carry - none of which are accurate.

In the end, he snaps the card shut and shoves it in the bottom of the desk drawer, convincing himself he’ll forget it exists and then give it without second thought.

_ A very platonic xoxo, _ he repeats to himself.  _ Ramen probably won’t open the card, anyway, I mean who even opens Christmas cards, right? Just a waste of paper and ink… _

Kaizo distracts himself with a featured movie on Netflix - Home Alone - supposing it’ll help get into the holiday mood.

He ends up falling asleep to a cut-out of Michael Jordan gliding around a party on a toy train.

-

Kaizo hops out of bed and very nearly avoids stepping directly on one of his carefully wrapped gifts and ripping the wrapping paper. His foot thankfully misses, but collides with the corner of the wall instead.

He curses loudly and jumps on his other foot, crashing back onto his bed and holding his injured foot. He gently massages the area, murmuring a string of swears under his breath.

“ _ Ow… _ ”

His phone vibrates beside him, reminding him of the party this evening, and he mutters at it. He doesn’t know why he set a reminder for the time when it’s the only thing that’s been on his mind for the past day.

The notification triggers an onslaught of unread messages and Kaizo groans, as his WhatsApp piles up with Christmas wishes from people he talks to once a year at max. Messages to his phone number float to the top and he accidentally taps it while trying to close it.

_[09:22]_ **Merry Christmas**

_[09:23]_ **I hope youre having a good time**

_[09:23]_ **wherever you are…**

Kaizo grimaces and clears through the rest of his notifications, tossing his phone aside and rubbing his foot again.

-

There isn’t much to do today but kill time before 8pm. 

Kaizo acquires an ice pack from the innkeeper. At this rate, he owes the guy some serious favors. The railings were strung with tinsel when he went downstairs, the walls decorated with wreaths and holly, the tables set with glittery doilies in red and green. 

He closes his room door to the sound of Mariah Carey blaring in the hallways, and flops back onto his bed. He clicks on his phone, marking the messages as read and replying to each with a cordial “happy holidays”.

He’s scrolling down his messages list and pauses at a number he hasn’t called in over a year. His thumb hovers over the call button for a long moment, before he swallows and taps “message” instead.

_ [09:56] _ Happy holidays   
_ [09:56] _ Merry xmas, whatever

_ [09:57] _ …

_ [10:00] _ I miss you.

He lets out a long sigh and closes his phone, flipping it over. Pang hasn’t reached out to him since he left spiteful. Kaizo wonders if he ever thinks about him.

Or does he go the Kaizo way and busy himself in his livelihood, leaving no room for lingering reminiscence. Kaizo ponders on that for a moment, tempted to add a “hope you’re doing well”, but that reminds him of the message from earlier, so he doesn’t.

Against his better judgement, he finally pulls open the text wall and reads it in full, forcing himself through every awkward word, until he gets another message notification. He’s excited for a moment, before deflating and reminding himself Pang probably still resents him. It’s a number he doesn’t recognize, so he reads the message carefully.

Oh.

_ Oh _ .

Kaizo forgets all about Pang and the unwanted messages in the sudden excitement of landing a record deal. With one of the  _ top producers in America, _ mind you.

His entire career has led up to this moment and he briefly considers if it’s a Christmas miracle of Yuletide magic, and he lets his mind run with possibilities of returning to LA, before the cold reminder returns.

He’s going to have to go back to LA.

He hasn’t grown terribly attached to this small town, yet, but the last place he wants to be in the world right now is California.

Kaizo reasons with himself - he could keep looking for a different apartment, but then he starts imagining scenarios of running into people he  _ just _ tried to escape, and the prospect starts to grow bleak.

Between tabs of apartment listings and the record producers website, as well as the occasional notification of “Merry Christmas!”, he hardly notices the hours go by, and the next thing he knows, he’s got a direct message from Ramen asking if he needs a ride to the party tonight.

The clock reads 4:20. Kaizo gapes and realizes he hasn’t eaten lunch, then figures the party will make up for his missed meal. If Ramen’s cooking is anything to go by, he won’t be leaving hungry tonight.

In the meantime, he probably ought to get ready.

-

Shower: 30 minutes

Get dressed: 5 minutes, plus 10 struggling to fit into his tight jeans.

Perfect eyeliner while humming Jingle Bells: however long it takes to hum Jingle Bells

Gel hair: an embarrassingly long time, plus one full jar of hair gel

Kaizo straightens his red leather jacket, deciding he cleans up rather nicely. He hopes Ramen isn’t expecting him to dye his hair green or something to fit the occasion, and plops down on a chair to kill some time before Mamee shows up to pick him up.

Still no response from Pang. He bites the inside of his cheek and goes back to rereading the record offer. The excitement rises up again as he goes through every line, and he manages to convince himself that this might actually work.

Mamee messages him, this time, to let him know he’s here, and Kaizo follows his account as an afterthought. Pushing all worry from his mind, not even minding the obnoxious Christmas music, he starts descending the stairwell until his foot throbs painfully and he nearly crashes in the lobby.

The other had stepped out of the car to collect him, and rushes inside to help him up and grab the gift boxes. Kaizo thanks him and stumbles into the car, limping on his one good foot.

-

Ramen is pulling a steaming tray of cookies out of the oven when Kaizo opens the door to the warm aroma of baking. He relishes in it as Ramen takes off his oven mitts and drops them on the counter, shaking off his apron as he comes to greet the guests.

“ _ Watch out for mistletoe _ ,” Mamee winks as Ramen releases him from a hug and moves towards Kaizo.

Kaizo splutters out in shock and Mamee doubles down in laughter. “ _ Joking _ , joking!”

Kaizo narrows his eyes, unamused, but allows Ramen to wrap him in an awkward sort of hug, before breaking away with a nervous laugh. His eyes are sparkling, though.

“I’m glad you came,” Ramen says, and Kaizo grins, his face warming. 

Something about the way the lighting accentuates the flush on Ramen’s cheeks from working in the kitchen is...very attractive. Kaizo is torn between shyly looking away and shamelessly staring on.

But he has the decency to shift his eyes to the-

“ _ Woah _ .”

Ramen follows his gaze to the gaudy Christmas tree in the corner of the room, and laughs.

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for the holidays.”

“I saw the lights,” Kaizo informs him dryly, still surprised at the sheer level of decoration outside. He squints. “Did you put... _ noodles _ ? On the tree?”

“Oh, no, that was me,” Mamee raises his hand. “They’re dry, though, we aren’t about to stink up this place. Sam actually suggested hanging boiled eggs last year - can you imagine the smell?”

“That didn’t stop you from dipping your ornament in soup stock,” Samyang reminds, appearing behind Kaizo. “Welcome.”

Kaizo shakes his head in disbelief, but nods to acknowledge the greeting.

“I swear, you guys are something else…”

“Like what?” Eggi asks curiously, seated by the tree. 

Kaizo turns to him and he waves.

“I hope you managed to figure out the rest of the gifts okay.” Then, when the others turn in confusion, “Oh, I helped Kaizo pick Christmas gifts because no one would deliver on such short notice.”

“That was sweet of you,” Samyang says softly, though Mamee raises an eyebrow.

“I must admit I would have been hopeless without his help,” Kaizo shrugs, dropping his head in shame.

“Oh, yeah, speaking of, do you need help getting those giant boxes out of the car?” Mamee reminds. “I’m hella curious to see what you  _ got _ .”

“Oh, thanks,” Kaizo blinks, looking down at his foot. He got new shoes yesterday that aren’t quite appropriate for the snow, but definitely better than sneakers, and suit his holiday outfit nicely. They’re also thick and tight, so he can hardly feel his feet, let alone the injury.

“Are you okay?” Ramen asks doubtfully, glancing back at the kitchen.

Kaizo waves him off. “I just hurt my foot earlier- I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Here,” Kaizo proves his point by limping over to the table. “I’ll help decorate.”

“Uh, okay, thanks,” Ramen allows, and Kaizo proceeds to display the full extent of his artistic talent with icing. 

The result is...not  _ hideous. _

Ramen blinks and does not comment, for which Kaizo is both grateful and disappointed, as they’re whisked off the baking sheet and onto a serving platter.

“Mint or coffee?” Ramen thinks aloud, and Kaizo turns.

“What?”

“Oh, I’m just figuring out the hot chocolate,” Ramen raises his eyes to Samyang. “What do you say?”

“Mint,” Mamee answers for him. “The perfect balance of warm and chilly.”

“Isn’t it a little late for coffee?” Kaizo asks, confused.

Ramen chuckles. “It’s just a flavor mix,” he explains, and Kaizo nods, feeling dumb.

Ramen abandons the kitchen as the rest of the guests arrive, and Kaizo plops down on a comfy sofa with a mug of cocoa and a croissant that’s still hot from the oven.

Everyone’s instantaneous reaction upon seeing him seems to be to gape in surprise and remark on his absence and unexpected appearance. It’s gotten old so he’s grown used to giving a vague answer accompanied by a reassurance of his sentimental attachment to his hometown.

They make their own conversation that he can’t quite relate to, having been away for so long, so he nibbles at his croissant and listens to their tales. Soon the conversation has split between groups and he finds himself with no one to talk to, except, perhaps, listen in as Mamee chats with Samyang and Eggi.

The music that has been quietly playing in the background shifts to a new track and Kaizo realizes with a start that it’s his own voice playing through the speakers. He gapes at Ramen, who is glancing at him hesitantly, and Mamee seems to notice the exchange because he interrupts his conversation to address Kaizo in surprise.

“Yo, this is you, isn’t it?”

Kaizo nods humbly, cringing slightly at his volume, and, sure enough heads turn. There’s some unintelligible muttering before Samyang is tapping his shoulder, and Kaizo turns to see his shy smile.

“Will you sing for us?”

“Make it karaoke,” Eggi suggests, and before Kaizo knows it, they’re bringing him to his feet, eyes wide with anticipation.

Well, he’s here. May as well give them a show.

Ramen shrugs apologetically. “I don’t have a microphone…”

Kaizo waves him off, but Eggi nudges him and presents him with a crumpled up ball of paper? Napkin? In a conical cup.

It’s silly but he takes the makeshift mic and closes his eyes and imagines he’s back on the middle school stage, singing to the whole gymnasium full of proud parents and loyal townspeople. The nervousness hasn’t gone away, but he knows this music, and those are his vocals, and they’re backing him up even if he loses his voice.

But he doesn’t, and he opens his eyes to see every single jaw dropped in awe and wonder, and he flushes, ducking his head humbly as the song ends and they explode into cheers and applause.

Ramen’s eyebrows are raised high as Kaizo staggers over to him, grinning.

“We all needed that, I think,” Ramen tells him, nodding appreciatively. “This town misses its talent,” he gestures around the room.

Kaizo rubs the back of his neck and looks down at the counter, wondering if he should mention the record deal. Before he can decide, though, an unfamiliar guest appears, his arm wrapped around a girl’s waist - maybe his girlfriend, or wife, who knows.

“Hey, can we get some dance music up in here?”

Ramen pauses and reaches for his phone to change the track, and they watch the couple take to the empty space in front of the Christmas tree, arms wrapped around one another and moving slowly until the beat picks up.

More people join in as the song gets faster and then they’re just freestyling, having fun with friends, as parties ought to be.

Something Kaizo has never quite been able to relate to.

Ramen’s voice in his ear catches him by surprise.

“Do you want to join them?” he offers his hand, and Kaizo stares at it for a moment in surprise, then hesitates. 

Ramen raises an eyebrow, and he gives in, taking his hand. He straightens, getting up, but accidentally lands on his hurt foot, and winces. Ramen doesn’t ask before helping Kaizo up, letting Kaizo lean on him for balance, and guiding him to the middle of the room.

Kaizo can’t do much but rest his wrists on Ramen’s shoulders, then slip his hands back to interlock his fingers behind his neck, one foot dangling just above the floor, as Ramen plants his own hands on his waist.

“You okay on that foot?” Ramen asks.

Kaizo nods. “Sorry…” he apologizes for the awkwardness.

Ramen ignores it and lifts his arm, extending it, and Kaizo leans back in confusion for a moment before putting his hand in the blond’s and letting him take his other and place it lower on his back.

“There,” Ramen decides. “Remember those stupid dancing classes you always tried to skip?”

Kaizo rolls his eyes. “I was touch-repulsed. What kinda teacher makes eleven-year-olds hold hands and move around with special steps. It’s dumb…”

“Is this dumb?” Ramen asks, and the words catch in Kaizo’s throat as he looks up to meet his gaze.

Kaizo shakes his head wordlessly, eyes wide, as Ramen leans close, almost teasing, then back. Kaizo might be disappointed but he’s thankful for the space to catch his breath.

“Guess they turned out to be worth it, after all,” Ramen goes on, then stares at Kaizo sharply. “You’re a terrible dancer, by the way.”

Kaizo pouts. “I hurt my foot.”

Ramen doesn’t shrug so as to keep their balance, but he makes a small sound of lighthearted contempt.

They’re silent for a little while, and Kaizo shifts his gaze to the others in the room. Some have sat down, some are in pairs, some are hanging by the snacks and doing. Silly things. Kaizo squints, unable to figure out exactly which, but they’re laughing. With each other.

He supposes that’s all that matters.

He glances down, feeling a sudden flash of sadness, almost longing, though it takes him by surprise. Ramen seems to notice him slowing down.

“Something wrong?”

Kaizo decides it’s time to tell him. He’s done so much already…

“Y’know, everyone’s been asking me...why I came back,” he mumbles, and Ramen stiffens. It’s slight, but Kaizo can sense it all the same.

“Yeah?” Ramen prompts, then, “I’m going to guess it’s not because you missed us.”

A rueful laugh.

Kaizo’s stomach plummets but he only bites his lip and bobs his head slightly.

“I figured I may as well tell you, because…” Kaizo says, then pauses. “I don’t know…”

Ramen doesn’t press but Kaizo can sense his confusion, and he ducks his head.

“I just, yeah, I came back,” he swallows. “I had a roommate, back in LA.”

“Had?” Ramen tilts his head.

Kaizo licks his dry lips. “Have,” he corrects, wincing. “I was living on my own after, uh, he left,” and he doesn’t have to say that it’s his brother because Ramen can read his mind well enough by now, he thinks.

“He was looking for a roommate too. I was doing side jobs and worked for some family or friend of his and ended up doing some stuff for him, too…”

“ _ Stuff _ ,” Ramen repeats skeptically.

“ _ Cleaning _ ,” Kaizo clarifies, before Ramen gets the wrong idea, and almost laughs in the small relief. “Yeah, they’re pretty busy with their own lives, over there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kaizo nods, smile fading. “Well, y’know, I moved in. He seemed pretty nice, we were both kind of doing his own thing. I didn’t even realize he’d been paying more attention to me, assuming things I didn’t mean when I said…”

“What’d he do?” Ramen asks faintly.

Kaizo sighs. “He confessed his feelings and I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t see it coming, that’s for sure,” he mutters, glancing away.

“So you rejected him?” Ramen asks.

Kaizo shakes his head. “I came here. Needed some space to think, I told him.”

Ramen gapes. “You just left?!”

Kaizo narrows his eyes. “What? I’m confiding in you and-”

“Sorry,” Ramen backtracks quickly, but his eyes are wide. “But really, what’d you say?”

Kaizo shrugs, not wanting to recall the details. “I don’t know...how am I supposed to tell him it’s not what he thinks it is...what he wanted it to be…”

“Wow,” Ramen shakes his head, but not angrily. “That is...not what I was expecting, I’ll be honest.”

“Yeah?” Kaizo asks curiously.

Ramen shakes his head again. “I mean, we suspected, Mamee, anyway, and me too, I guess, that your career wasn’t working out…”

Kaizo bites his lip, and decides he may as well drop the second bombshell now too.

“I got an offer, actually,” he starts slowly. “One of the biggest producers in America. Just got the message this morning, actually,” and he smiles in spite of himself.

Ramen raises his eyebrows, face breaking into a grin that Kaizo can’t place as forced or genuine. “Really? That’s awesome!”

Kaizo nods humbly, but allows a small smile of pride at his accomplishments.

Ramen deflates slightly. “I guess that means you’re going back to Cali, then…”

Kaizo pauses, unsure of how to respond. He ends up mumbling a halfhearted “yeah…” and Ramen releases him, gently, but it’s disappointing all the same to find himself sitting alone on his chair, slightly miserable.

“Aren’t you happy?” Ramen pokes, surprising him. “You got a record deal!”

“He did what, now?” Mamee asks, joining them, and Ramen grins at him.

“Cauliflower landed himself an offer from one of the biggest producers in America,” the blond relays.

“Yoooo, that’s dope!” Mamee actually says out loud and Kaizo’s spirits lift very slightly at the encouragement.

He still can’t read Ramen’s expression and something about it irks him, though he can’t place what.

So he nods and thanks Mamee for the support, until the other asks,

“When are you heading back, then?”

Kaizo pauses, realizing he hadn’t considered that.

“I guess I’ll stay till New Year’s,” he shrugs. “Accept the offer and figure things out…”

He’s in no rush to get back to the big city, but Ramen perks up at that.

“So you’re still here for a week or so?” he nudges him.

Kaizo nods. “I wanna spend the holidays with actual snow,” he decides.

Mamee raises an eyebrow skeptically. “No you don’t.”

Kaizo pouts. “It’s been years. Sure it’s freezing, but at least it’s  _ merry, _ ” he flashes an intentionally fake smile and they laugh.

And, truth be told, he isn’t lying this time.

-

The next week flies by too quickly. 

The Food Gang met on Boxing Day to finally open their gifts. 

Ramen gaped as unwraps the long package to reveal the bass guitar that had caught Kaizo’s eye back at the electronics store.

“It’ll be nice to have someone on backup bass at my first concert,” Kaizo explained.

“But I don’t play!” Ramen spluttered.

“Then you can learn,” Kaizo shrugged, opening his own package.

It was an apron, and he shook it open to see a smiling cauliflower decal all over the front.

He narrowed his eyes. “Very funny.”

Mamee gave him a heavy pat on the back. “We’re gonna make a chef out of you.”

So Kaizo alternated evenings demonstrating chords on Ramen’s bass, as the other slowly got the hang of the brand new instrument, completely foreign to him. In exchange, the blond and his friends introduced him to the kitchen and cheered him on as he mastered the art of the Burnt Omelette, though his recent attempts are significantly less blackened.

Kaizo ends up doing things he’d never even considered doing back when he was in LA. Cooking, one of them, but the Food Gang surprised him one day as Mamee pulled up in front of the hill beside the school, unloading a set of plastic sleds from the trunk.

They spent that whole afternoon trudging up the hill and sliding back down, careening towards trees and missing barely, rolling upside down laughing themselves silly. Kaizo, exhausted and aching, called quits, but Ramen proceeded to lift him up and carry him back up the hill princess-style for another round. Two. Three.

Kaizo told them about the fabulous McDonald’s sunrise, then regretted it when they phoned him at 3am to get in the car and join them for a Very Early Breakfast. The poor employee was half-asleep when they walked in, ordering a large meal that Kaizo wouldn’t even eat for lunch.

And they dragged the chairs in front of the window and Kaizo rested his head on Ramen’s shoulder for only a moment before he found himself being shaken awake to groggily behold the sunrise, Ramen’s eyes bright as he beckoned him outside.

Kaizo, still waking up from his accidental nap, shivering in the cold morning air, and Ramen wrapping his arms around him, huddling together for warmth. Kaizo’s face grew warm immediately, and he hid it in the blond’s sleeve, before the other dropped his arms.

“Don’t fall asleep again,” Ramen joked, as Kaizo’s head dropped tiredly.

-

By New Year’s Eve, Kaizo’s foot has healed considerably, and he can walk on it again.

Perhaps irresponsibly, his friends -  _ his friends _ \- urge him to join them for an afternoon at the skating rink, and he slips into the chipped rentals with some hesitation.

“I’m not sure about this…”

As if on cue, Ramen offers his hand. Kaizo looks up and sighs in defeat and accepts it, wobbling as Ramen helps him to his feet. He takes baby steps to the rink, Ramen guiding him onto the ice.

“You skate often?” Kaizo asks in surprise at his steadiness.

“Every year,” Ramen says, reminding Kaizo again of the life he’s lived without him. 

It prickles a bit, and Kaizo can’t seem to shake off the feeling.

Ramen pauses. “Wanna see something?”

“Uh, sure?” Kaizo shrugs, and Ramen brings him to the wall of the rink so he can lean against it, before skating alone to the middle of the rink. 

He makes a few rounds around the rink, gaining momentum, before he  _ lifts off the ice _ and does a dazzling spin in thin air, before touching down and speeding across, regaining his balance with ease.

Kaiz’s jaw drops. “Holy fuck!”

Ramen winks and laughs as he comes back to take Kaizo’s hands again. Kaizo’s eyes are wide saucers and he’s still gaping as Ramen helps him stay steady.

“That was amazing,” Kaizo tells him, genuinely awed, and Ramen shrugs.

“You’re plenty talented yourself,” he smiles, and Kaizo can sense an unmistakable blush taking over his cheeks.

If he’s lucky, Ramen will figure that his face is red from the cold.

As the evening goes on, Kaizo manages to find his own balance, though his feet are aching from skating all afternoon. He kicks off his skates and props himself up, sitting on the wall barrier, as Ramen’s friends and some strangers initiate a hockey game.

The Food Gang take an early lead, but, tired out from skating for a while, end up losing to the other side. They’re good sports about it, though, clapping backs and shaking hands as they cross over to the other side.

The sun has already set and entertainers begin to assemble, keeping spirits lively and the cold away as the clock ticks ever surely towards midnight. There’s a roaring bonfire and Kaizo huddles with Ramen around it, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t give his blush away.

“Are you going to sing for us?” Ramen murmurs to Kaizo as the ukulele player strums the final chords of a song.

Kaizo pauses. “Should I?”

“Hey guys!” Mamee announces, “Kaizo is gonna sing for us!”

“There’s your answer,” Ramen informs him, as people start to perk up in interest.

Kaizo sighs and gets up, patting the snow off the back of his pants and accepting the actual microphone set up this time.

He sings one of his better-known songs - it has the most views of all his posts on Instagram - and it’s a classic with his hometown. The whole crowd joins in in the last verse and he ends to applause and a standing ovation. Kaizo grins, realizing he’s going to miss this, though his future holds packed stadiums. Something about it just doesn’t feel the same…

“I don’t think I ever get tired of hearing your voice,” Ramen admits when Kaizo returns to his side.

Kaizo blushes so hard he forgets how to speak for a moment. He clears his throat nervously.

“Uhm…”

Ramen’s face falls in disappointment. “Don’t shut up on me now!”

That gets a laugh out of him, and Ramen pats his shoulder, smiling affectionately. Kaizo curls his gloved fingers, feeling cold.

“Does anyone know what time it is?” he asks after a while, as the entertainment dies down and everyone’s attention seems to evaporate.

Ramen shuffles through the crowd for a bit, Kaizo following him, and they find an intelligent stranger with a wristwatch.

“It’s 11:47,” he informs them, and Kaizo can see Ramen’s eyes widen even in the dim light.

“It’s almost time…”

Kaizo’s stomach lurches with anticipation, but he doesn’t feel ill as they make their way around the fireworks set-up. They watch the organizers fumble with the firecrackers, and Kaizo leans his head against Ramen’s jacket, feeling a bit sleepy.

“Nodding off already?” the blond asks.

Kaizo nods into his jacket - Ramen actually dressed appropriately for the weather this time - and mumbles something unintelligible. Ramen lifts his arm and pats his head, ruffling his hair slightly, and Kaizo forgets to breathe for a moment, pulling away.

“Is the countdown starting soon?” His eyes are closed.

Ramen glances around. “I think so…”

There’s a few moments of the crowd shuffling around, and then, soon enough, they go still.

“ _ Is everyone ready? _ ” A booming voice calls out, even louder than Mamee’s, somehow, if that’s possible. “ _ In… _ ..”

“ _ Ten _ ,” the crowd echoes along with him.

Kaizo squints to see Ramen watching him carefully.

_ “Nine!” _

The blond licks his lips.

_ “Eight!” _

Kaizo restrains a grin.

_ “Seven!” _

Ramen’s jacket shifts beside him.

_ “Six!” _

Kaizo opens his eyes and locks his gaze.

_ “Five!” _

Ramen’s eyes are searching his for something, but Kaizo knows he can already read his mind.

_ “Four!” _

Kaizo shifts his balance and cautiously raises to tiptoes.

_ “THREE!” _

Ramen is leaning his head down.

_ “TWO!” _

Kaizo’s hands are gripping the collar of his jacket and he closes his eyes.

_ “ONE!!!” _

Their lips meet as the crowd explodes into cheers and there’s the deafening boom of fireworks. Kaizo opens his eyes again and stares into Ramen’s wide ones before pulling away, his cheeks flushed but his mouth grinning widely.

_ “Happy New Year,” _ he whispers, inches away from Ramen’s lips.

Ramen’s jaw drops just slightly and Kaizo releases his jacket, dropping onto his heels again. His head is light and he might be dizzy.

But before he knows it, Ramen is cupping his jaw, and bringing him back for another kiss, turning his head and kissing him again, closer, and Kaizo can taste the remnants of hot cocoa on his breath.

“I’m going to miss you,” Ramen admits when they finally break away, a sad smile on his face.

“Me too,” Kaizo admits, then hesitates. “You could, y’know, come with me…”

Ramen shakes his head disappointedly and Kaizo deflates. _ A bit too much to hope for… _

“My home is here, though you’re always welcome here,  _ Cauliflower _ ,” Ramen nudges him gently.

“I’ll definitely be back soon, then,” Kaizo promises, smile returning in full as Ramen sweeps him up and kisses him again while another round of fireworks goes off in the background.

Nothing about this place gives rise to familiarity, and yet Kaizo feels like a true local within it.

**Author's Note:**

> merry crisis, ya filthy animal


End file.
